4. Tyler
Tyler
I’m falling for Cassie, and it’s complicated in ways I didn’t anticipate. I always thought she was beautiful, she was the girl who was quiet, kept to herself, but she was one thing which I couldn’t stop thinking about. She was beautiful. She’s still beautiful.
I knew going in, that she hated me. Knew that trying to become better would be a slow, painful process.
What I didn’t anticipate was how much I’d want her to see the change.
How much her continued anger would start to feel like rejection from someone whose opinion suddenly mattered more than anyone else’s.
“You’ve got it bad,” Jackson says during practice.
“I don’t have anything.”
“You’re daydreaming during drills. You missed an easy pass because you were thinking about her. You literally said her name out loud in the locker room yesterday.”
“I did not,” I fight.
“You did. When Coach asked who wanted extra conditioning, you said, ‘Yeah, like Cassie would want—’ and then you stopped mid-sentence and looked like you wanted to die.” He starts laughing, and it’s taking everything in my not to punch him in the face.
Ryder laughs from across the locker room. “He’s right. It was painful to watch.”
“I’m not daydreaming. I’m just… thinking about things.”
“About Cassie?” Marcus calls out.
“Leave him alone,” Carter says, but he’s grinning, asshole. “He’s trying to convince someone to forgive him for being a dick. Let him suffer.”
“I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything-”
“Sure you’re not. That’s why you’ve been to every single literary magazine meeting for the past three weeks. That’s why you submitted a piece. That’s why you look like your heart stops every time Cassie walks into a room.” Carter jokes, making everyone laugh, shaking my head I slam my locker shut.
They’re not wrong and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to pretend otherwise.
The problem is that Cassie is the one person who might never believe I’ve changed, and somehow, that makes me want to prove it to her more than anything.
I will win her over, I will convince her that I've changed, and I’m the right man for her.
She’s sitting by the window when I walk into the coffee shop, working on her laptop, completely unaware of my presence. Should I talk to her? I shouldn’t, but here I am walking towards her.
“Hey,” I say.
She looks up, and I watch her decide whether to be polite or hostile. Politeness wins by a narrow margin by the looks on her face.
“Hi.”
“Can I sit?” I ask , pointing to the empty chair.
“It’s not my table.”
“That’s a yes? I don’t want to take the seat without your permission.” I question, because I’m not sure she’s very hard to read. She doesn’t argue, which I take as permission. I wish I could read her better, just drop one of the walls she’s had up for so long.
I sit across from her, and I’m not surprised that there is silence between us, I glance over to her empty mug.
“I’m going to get a coffee, would you like one?
” Her fingers stop over the keys on her laptop.
“I’ll get one for you, and hope they remember what you ordered.
” I smile even though she’s not looking at me, and I walk over to the counter and order my coffee.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what she ordered,” I point to Cassie, the guy behind the counter looks at her, then to me.
“Yeah.”
“Can you add that to my order?” The guy gives me a nod, and I walk to the end of the counter, looking over at Cassie. Still as beautiful when I first saw her.
I need to work on a plan, I need to find out why she hates me so much even though I never said a word to her. There has to be more to why she hates me.
Thanking the guy for the coffees, I sit back down, placing the coffee in front of her.
“I wanted to ask you something,” I say finally.
“If it’s about the magazine, talk to Cassie-the-editor, not Cassie-the-person-who-hates-you.” She really is going to make this hard for me.
“It’s not about the magazine.” I lean forward slightly. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“Because of sophomore year. We’ve been through this.” Okay so she’s talking to me. That's a good sign, right?
“No, I mean… Why does it still hurt? It’s been two years. Why are you still so angry
She finally looks up at me, and if looks could kill I’m sure I’d be dead right now. “Because you knew better. That’s what makes me angriest. You’re not stupid. You’re not ignorant. You just chose to be complicit. You chose silence over solidarity, and that choice had consequences for me.”
“I know.”
“Do you though? Do you really understand what it felt like to have people I thought were friends turn on me? To have the guy I actually liked a lot participate in spreading rumors about me? To have you, someone who knew it was wrong just stand there and let it happen?”
“I was a coward.”
“Yes. You were, but like I said you don’t know what it did to me.” Her voice breaks a little, and I wonder what it did to her.
I’m not going to mention it now, but she said she liked me, maybe thats why it hurt her more.
“I’m trying not to be anymore. I want to make this right.”
“By reading poetry at the literary magazine reading?” Even, I know that's meant to sound like a dig at me.
“By actually changing who I am. By choosing to stand up when I see things that are wrong. By understanding that my silence is still a choice, and it has consequences.”
She looks at me for a long moment, and I see something shift in her expression. Not forgiveness, but maybe… understanding.
“That’s good,” she says quietly. “That’s really good. But it doesn’t undo what happened.”
“I know it doesn’t. I’m not asking for a do-over. I’m just asking if maybe… you could see that I’m trying.” If she can get to know me, I know she will see me for me, and not the one who let friends mess with my head. She will see I’m a nice person.
“I see it,” she admits. “Which is the problem.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because it would be easier to hate you if you were still the same person. If you were still toxic, arrogant and cruel. But you’re not. You’re actually trying to be better, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
“You could forgive me.” Maybe that's pushing my luck, but I’m taking it, maybe I’ve got her in a good mood.
“I could. But I’m not ready yet.”
“But maybe someday?”
She doesn’t answer, just takes a sip of her coffee and looks back at her laptop.
It’s not a yes. But it’s also not a no, and I’m taking it. Give her enough time, I know she’ll forgive me. If I’m lucky, even go on a date with me.